Sunnydale Red
by sirensbane
Summary: "There's a new player in town," the Mayor said. "Calls himself the Red Hood."
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

Trouble regularly rolled into Sunnydale.

Granted, it didn't usually do it in a red Aston Martin with the top down, and the license plates didn't usually read 'New Jersey.' The powerful car purred to a stop beside the "Welcome to Sunnydale" sign and a man stepped out of it. He wasn't very tall, but the combat boots and leather jacket didn't need the addition. Nor did the body armor visible beneath the coat.

He locked the car, but didn't bother to put the top back up. There was a tracer underneath the car if he wanted to recover it, and besides, there were probably one or two left by the rightful owner that he'd missed. He paused to imagine some thug's face if said owner showed up to reclaim the car, smirked, and grabbed his duffle bag from the back seat. This he slung over one shoulder.

Lastly came the red mask. He held it loosely in his hands a moment, smirked again, then slipped it over his head.

"Ready or not," he murmured. "Here I come."

* * *

Mayor Wilkins looked up from his desk and smiled hugely. "Ah, Faith. Just the woman I wanted to see."

"Yeah?" She flopped down in a chair and swung her feet up onto the Mayor's desk. He frowned at them, and guiltily she put her feet back on the floor. "What is it?"

To her relief, he turned away from the desk and paced over to the window. "There's a new player in town. Calls himself the Red Hood."

Faith snorted.

"Now, now, be nice," the Mayor scolded. "He could be very helpful in dealing with our Slayer problem."

"I could take her," Faith grumbled.

"I know you could," the Mayor said soothingly. "Nevertheless, I think it's worth a shot to talk to this Red Hood. Find out why he's here, what he wants. From Gotham to Sunnydale's a long way to come for a cigarette." He shuddered. "Nasty things anyway. Bad for your health."

Faith tried to remember where Gotham was but soon gave it up. Somewhere on the East Coast? "So...what? I find this guy and give him a questionnaire?"

"I have faith in you." He grinned. "Get it? Faith in you?"

She just looked at him.

"C'mon, laugh a little. A girl your age shouldn't be so serious." When her expression didn't change, he sighed. "Oh alright, if you insist. You're a resourceful girl, Faith. I trust you to find a way."

Faith got to her feet. "Consider it done."

He smiled at her. "That's my girl. Mind you don't stay out too late now." He beamed at her as she left.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Someone whimpered from a nearby alley, and Jason Todd's head turned in that direction. In seconds, he crossed the roof where he'd been crouching and jumped back down to street-level. A woman struggled feebly against the grip of a man whose face was in shadow, nestled in the region of her throat.

Jason cocked his gun. "Let her go."

The man looked up. "Oh look." He grinned. In the dim light, his teeth looked hideously long. "Dessert."

He threw the girl aside and lunged at Jason. The first bullet drilled into his chest; the next two took him in the head. The man dropped like a stone. The girl sat pressed against the wall where she'd been thrown, shivering, her eyes wide and one hand clamped over her neck. She shrank back as Jason approached.

"Are you hurt?"

"He…he _bit _me!" the girl sobbed. Sure enough, Jason could see blood leaking through her fingers. He could also see the beginnings of shock in her rapid breathing.

"Get up."

The firm command cut through her panic like gentleness couldn't have. She staggered to her feet, still crying but focused on him.

"Can you walk?"

She took a few wobbly steps.

"Good," Jason said gruffly. "Now go to the hospital and don't go down any more dark alleys."

He watched her stumbling progress to the street, making sure she wouldn't fall. He'd seen the hospital from his rooftop; it wasn't far, and there were still people out and about who could make sure she got there.

Then a titanic force struck him from the side. He blinked stars from his vision and found himself sprawled against the wall, the man he'd killed standing over him with a murderous expression on his face. It hadn't been a trick of the light: the canines were long and wickedly sharp. Strange bumps and ridges covered the forehead. "Who'd you think you were dealing with, punk?"

"Someone with the intelligence to stay down," Jason snarked, but his mind was racing. _Meta. _His gun was gone, knocked from his hand. Unbidden, Bruce's words rose to the forefront of his mind: _"Catalog their strength. Then find their weakness."_

As the man reached down, Jason palmed a knife and slashed at his opponent's arm. The man snarled and drew back, and Jason rolled to his feet. Everything hurt; he felt like he was moving through molasses. _Strong. Really strong_. Only the Red Hood helmet had kept him from unconsciousness.

_And fast_, he was forced to add a moment later as the man lunged again. Jason leapt backwards and pulled a capsule from his belt. He flung it on the ground; thick smoke billowed up. But it hardly slowed the man at all. He appeared suddenly out of the fog, catching Jason's arm and flinging him into a pile of wooden crates, probably left over from some shop on the main street. For the second time in as many minutes, Jason found himself sprawled on the ground, the thing standing over him.

_No. It does __**not **__end like this._ He grabbed for the first available weapon – a splinter of wood nearly as long as his forearm – and as the meta grinned and lifted him by the throat, he drove it with all his remaining strength into its chest.

The thing exploded into dust.

Jason stared at where it had been for a long, undignified moment, then down at the weapon in his hand. _Survived being shot, long teeth, really strong, really fast, turned to dust, wooden stake…_

_You've got to be kidding me._

* * *

"I'm telling you, Slayer, I don't know nothing!"

"Wrong answer, Willy." The greasy little bartender yelped as he was dragged over the bar. Bottles shattered; patrons moved hastily out of the way. If Willy hoped they would help him, he'd been sadly mistaken. Everyone knew that _this_ Slayer did not play nice.

Tightening her grip on Willy's collar, Faith slammed him against the bar. "I'm only gonna ask you one more time, Willy, and then I'm gonna have to get creative." Pinning him one-handed, she pulled her knife from the waistband of her jeans and held it under Willy's nose. "Where's the Red Hood?"

"I don't know. Wait!" he cried as Faith set the knife against his cheek. "Wait! I think I heard someone mention he's been seen down by the docks. Dusted a vampire, saved a girl, something like that."

Faith considered him a moment. She didn't think that he was lying to her; he didn't have the spine for it. In reward, she lowered the knife a bit. "What else do you know about him?"

Willy gulped and looked desperately in the direction of his clientele. Faith straightened his priorities with a little shake. "Not getting any younger here, Willy."

"Only that he's got a reputation back in Gotham," he squeaked. "Bad, real bad, like…" he gulped again and visibly cut himself off before he could say, 'like _you._'

Faith let him go. He cowered against the bar, staring at her wide-eyed. She was tempted to kick the crap out of him anyway, but decided it wasn't worth the time. Guy like him would just go belly-up anyway. She settled for a threat. "If I find you're lying to me, Willy, I might have to mention this little incident to the Mayor."

His face went even whiter and he shook his head vigorously, trying for a charming smile and failing miserably. "Lie to you? You wound me."

She snorted, then turned on her heel and stalked out of the bar. The patrons all kept their eyes on their drinks as she left, studiously not looking in her direction. _Like me? _she scoffed. _There's nobody like me._

* * *

The old factory was down by the docks. It had certainly seen better days, or so Buffy assumed. This being Sunnydale, it was possible there had _been _no better days for it to have. And this being Sunnydale, a derelict building down by the docks was almost certain to have occupants. Hopefully, in this case, the Blood Brothers gang she and Angel had been looking for.

"Why do the bad guys always hang out in abandoned buildings?" Buffy complained. "Just once, I'd like to visit a 5-star hotel."

"Couldn't get into a room," Angel said.

"Hey, I'll have you know I have some very nice…oh," she said when he cocked an eyebrow at her. "You meant you with the whole threshold thing."

A smile tugged at the corner of Angel's mouth, and he pointed to a rickety looking pipe that ran along the wall up past a second-story window. "That's our way in."

Buffy made a face. "I love my job." Then she sighed and reached for the pipe. "I guess it's not like we really _have _any 5-star hotels." She climbed in silence, Angel admiring her lithe, graceful body from below. When she had reached the second-story window, he followed her. The pipe groaned softly, but held.

Inside, the two of them cautiously crept along the upstairs catwalk towards the center of the building. As they did so, Buffy picked up the distinctive scent of blood.

A few steps later, she found out why.

Three guys lay on the ground floor of the factory. One sprawled in the ruins of a wooden table, a surprised look on his face. A second had died with a sub-machine gun in his hand; blood coated everything, leaked from his chest and throat around the shruikens – who the hell used shruikens? Some kind of freaking ninja? – that had killed him. The third was almost to the door, as though he'd tried to run. There was a bullet in his back and another in the back of his head.

"It's them," Angel said, jumping over the railing to land by the bodies. "The blood's fairly old. Probably been a day or two since they died."

"You can tell?" Buffy scanned the factory, but her instincts told her that whatever had done this was long gone.

Just then something groaned. Buffy whirled around, her Slayer senses tingling. _Then again_, she thought wryly, _they've been wrong before. _

"Buffy…" Angel said. She followed his gaze. A man hung on the catwalk about thirty feet to Buffy's left. As she got closer, she saw a wire or chain of some kind wrapped around him and attached by a hook to the railing. He groaned again and stirred sluggishly.

"Maybe he can tell us what happened," Buffy said.

"Be careful."

"Full of care, that's me," she quipped. The guy didn't look so good. She could see several bruises, even in the shadows, and if he'd been hanging up here since the fight, he was probably dehydrated.

"He needs a hospital," she called.

In a moment, Angel joined her, ignoring the stairs. Together, they unhooked the hook and lifted the guy up onto the catwalk. He opened his eyes blearily as they set him down.

"Slayer?" he murmured, but he sounded more relieved than afraid.

"What did this?" Angel asked.

The gang member's eyes turned to the vampire, and Buffy saw a glimmer of fear. "Guy. Red…red mask...hood…" For a moment he looked like he would try to get up, but then he lapsed back into unconsciousness.

Buffy and Angel exchanged glances. "Demon, you think?" Buffy said.

"Why would a demon want to take out the Blood Brothers?" Angel said. "They were pretty lame."

Buffy stood up grimly. The Blood Brothers might have been an evil biker gang, but four of them at least had been human. You didn't kill humans in Buffy's town and expect to get away with it. "Let's find out."


End file.
